


Tomorrow May Rain

by jetblackmirror (orphan_account)



Category: Green Day, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-07
Updated: 2007-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 02:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jetblackmirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gentle guidance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow May Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by a 'first kiss' meme.

"Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you."  
-Maori Proverb

 

What he remembers most about that time is the way the sunlight would hit him. Catching him while he laughed, his head thrown back in a full, opened mouthed bark. Carefree and careless about his crooked toothed grin, the light highlighting his lacquered hair. Radiant in shades of grey. Anyone else would have looked older, a fleeting thought that maybe their hair was greying with age and wisdom. Not him. Perpetual icon of youth locked in a compact frame.

Sometimes he would catch himself watching the man in a moment of rare contemplative solace. Hands shoved in pockets of ebony jeans that seemed to melt off his hips, never to be tugged to sit right. To circle his waist like a crown. He would watch as the sun refracted in burnt leaf eyes. Not quite gold, a shade off from copper. Framed by joy lines that whispered of a life well spent.

Maybe it was who he was, the life he had lived and the things he had seen. The long and winding road he had danced along to his zenith. Maybe he was like the old pagan kings, favored by the sun gods. The light drawn to him, soaked up like honey butter into a crust of bread.

Or maybe Gerard really was just a failed artist trying to be something he was not. Maybe it was twisting envy that drew his attention to the way summer caressed Billie Joe. Danced around and within him. He seemed to revel in the energy the daylight brought him. Or to glow with his own inner radiance when the light had faded.

He remembers the night Billie Joe had asked to join him on his walk. He remembers the way his cheeks felt when he nodded, hiding the heat through a thin veil of jet black strands. He remembers the way Billie Joe’s face still seemed to shimmer even in the shadows.

Gerard never speaks of their conversation that night, though it now rests carefully locked away in his heart. Next to his brother’s eyes and to the left of the taste of ink on synthetic fibers. Nor does he speak of the way Billie Joe took his hand, fingers entwining, causing his steps to slow as his eyes took in the sight of bronze contrasting linen.

He never mentions how Billie Joe’s palm felt like suede, or how he spoke to him of admiration. The courage to do what he still could not, though he tried. Or how his fingers gave a little squeeze when he cautioned him, humble words of advice softening the heavy air surrounding them.

Gerard will sometimes close his eyes, when he is crippled by fear, when his thoughts become too heavy and his chest begins to ache from his abusive heart. When he thinks he simply cannot do this anymore. When the pinpricks of doubt and need stab at his eyes. When lust breathes over the surface of his mind. Telling him he’s fine now. He can indulge. Once won’t hurt.

He will close his eyes and remember Billie Joe’s chapped mouth meeting his. The rough surface making his own teeth torn lips sting. He will remember how the calloused surface of Billie Joe’s hand felt as it slid over his cheek. The way nimble fingers tangled in his hair. Catching on knots and snarls. He will move his own hand to his hip, where Billie Joe’s had rested before circling to the base of his spine. The way gentle pressure had guided them closer. He will lick his lips at the lingering memory of the taste of smoke and red wine.

Gerard will remember summer, and his night won’t feel quite so cold.


End file.
